If you haven't read the first part, I hope that you do. I had a wonderful time writing it, as it was my first attempt to write from the man's point-of-view. Based on the responses many of you sent, I was fairly successful. This picks up from where I had given, and taken, some great oral sex with my boss. He is much older than I am, about the same age as my father. I must admit, there was a little bit of weird incest-type of thing going on, as I have always had a "thing" for older men. So, let's begin. This story takes up where the last one left off; when Elaine promised her boss that he could have sex with her.
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Richard had always wished that he had come-of-age in the glory days of the advertising agency business in New York of the 1950s and 1960s. This is the era portrayed in the TV program "Mad Men," and he had no reason to believe it was much different than that fictional account. Three martini lunches, smoking in your office and plenty of extramarital sex. But, now, today the business is much different. To begin with everybody under the age of 55 has an MBA, a killer drive and a loyal-less attitude toward where they worked.
So, the standard of today is truly defensive (especially for the older guys), which means that they ate at their desks, drank bitter Starbucks Coffee grabbed at Grand Central on their way from their Connecticut manses to the office. The agency where Richard worked was staffed, as most are, by many young men and women. At 63 he was one of the most senior account managers in the company, and, despite being very fit and reasonably trim for his age, he often felt old. Richard was also was envious of the younger men whom he assume were getting "it" from some of the younger girls.
There is one young woman in his office; a copywriter on one of the accounts he manages. Her name is Elaine. She reminded him of a young Diane Lane, and he is powerfully attracted to her. But, he was loyal to my wife. As much, he thought, because of lack of opportunity as anything. His wife is still attractive, but as with many couples married over 30 years, her ardor has cooled. So, while they still play tennis about once a week that is about all they do together that raises a sweat.
All this ended one afternoon when Elaine was showing Richard some work-in-progress on a new campaign. Somehow, Richard blurted out that he wanted to "fuck" Elaine. He was very flustered, even frightened that he had actually spoken out loud his thoughts. She thought it was charming, and then proceeded to pleasure him with a magnificent, there is no other really good word for it, blowjob.
After a few days of cautious flirting, he caught Elaine alone in one of the conference rooms. He was as nervous as a schoolboy. Nevertheless, he asked her if she had meant what she said about them getting a hotel room together; that there would be a "next time."
"Of course," she said, running a finger beneath the glistening thin gold chain she wore around her neck, drawing attention to her beautiful cleavage. "I always mean what I say," she continued looking at him, head slightly bowed in a submissive pose. But, a small smile playing on her luscious lips. He stared at the light dusting of freckles scattered over her chest.
"Of course.., of course," He mumbled in reply.
"Besides, now that I've had a taste of you, I have to have more, don't you think," she said, her hand sliding gently along the inside of one silk covered thigh to just under the hem of her skirt. She ran her pink tongue around her lips, now smiling a broad smile that crinkled the skin at the corners of her eyes. "Just give me some warning, so I can create a cover story to tell my husband."
And this brought Richard to the lobby of a small hotel; a pension it would be called in Europe. This pension had only a few rooms, but each was elegant and very well appointed, not to mention expensive. Arranging a meeting-time for the two of them for this particular Saturday was actually pretty easy. It was not at all unusual for agency staffers to work on Saturdays. It has been said, correctly, that at any given moment there are staffers beavering away at agencies around the world.
He was sitting in a leather armchair in the small ground floor lobby. A bored clerk of indeterminate age and ancestry dozed behind the desk. Richard's palms were moist and his stomach fluttered. He rubbed has hands on the arms of the chair, and then chaffed them between his knees, trying to pull the anxiety out.
He glanced up, suddenly worried that she had had second thoughts, and he saw Elaine through the glass door, standing on the sidewalk her body sidewise to his view. She was holding a bright white file card and looking from it to the number above the hotel door. He could see her black bra incasing her breasts outlined slightly through her blouse. She had a large, shapeless bag over one shoulder. Elaine turned and stepped to the door, opening it.
There she stood, holding the door open with her left hand, her right one shading her eyes as she tried to adjust her vision from the bright Saturday sunlight to the dim interior of the pension. The background noise of cars, cabs and voices typical of Manhattan leaked into the lobby around her. She was dressed just as he had hoped. She was wearing a slim gray skirt; white starched blouse opened enough to display the tops of her wonderful breasts. She was smiling at him, her green Irish eyes glinting in the light reflecting from the lobby mirrors. Her auburn hair was worn to just to her shoulders. Her neck was slender and encircled by the thin gold necklace she always wore. Her face a pleasing oval with well defined cheekbones, and she wore large gold hoop earrings.
She stepped into the lobby, her black heels clicking on the tile, accompanied by a slight, soft swishing as her black silk-clad legs rubbed slightly together as she walked straight into Richard's arms, her light perfume enveloping him and setting his heart racing and the blood flowing into his penis with a sudden force that surprised him.
